Nurse Hawkeye
by MysteryGal5
Summary: After an injury on the field, Natasha is ordered for six to eight weeks at home to heal. Clint is a pesky nurse who only wants to help, but Natasha is a stubborn patient who doesn't want it. (Platonic Clintasha) (Short Story)
1. Natasha's Injury

**This idea was suggested by the lovely Gummybear1178 in March and here I am writing it a good four months later. She also made the incredibly cute story cover and deserves a visit to her profile.**

 **Quick note: I don't know anything about medicine and injuries so all this information is from the first link on Google.**

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Chapter One: Natasha's Injury

She was never one to be careless in the field. Ever since she was a little girl in The Red Room, every move she made was fluent yet destructive. By the age of ten, she was able to take down a fully grown man in under thirty seconds. After years of abuse and tiring training, she has suitably earned her title as The Black Widow. Her skills gained from those experiences helped her to be one of SHIELD's most lethal spies and a member of Earth's Mightiest Heroes: The Avengers.

What Natasha didn't understand was how she was lying in a SHIELD hospital bed after a mission with one of her legs hanging above her in a solid white cast.

"Relax Tasha," Clint says, rubbing the crook of her arm with his thumb. "It's just a broken leg. It happens to everyone."

"It was just one stupid mission," Natasha grumbles. "I blocked a kick when I should've side-stepped."

Her eyes were staring at that cast with her eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.

Clint sits back in the chair next to her bed. He looks up at the florescent lights as he hears the soft sound of footsteps approaching. The doctor walks in flipping through the papers on his clipboard. Natasha gives her usual pissed-off poker face so Clint gets up and approaches the doctor.

"How long will the cast be on for?" Clint asks, leaning in closer to whisper. "I think it would be better if you tell me not to deal with her."

He subtly points to the frowning redhead in the hospital gown. The doctor nods, knowing not to deal with her. Natasha notices but doesn't say anything.

"Well," the doctor says. "Lucky for her, the x-ray only showed a fracture and not a bone displacement."

"Hm," Natasha scoffs. Her eyes never leaving the cast. "I'm so _great_ with luck."

"Ignore her," Clint says, giving Natasha his best scolding look. Natasha glares at him before returning her focus back to her cast.

"Anyways," the doctor proceeds. "She is going to be needing a lot of rest to allow the injury to heal. She cannot take any missions for the next six to eight weeks and - "

"What?!" Natasha says sharply.

Her green eyes are piercing into the souls of the two men standing off to the side. The doctor immediately realizes that he made a mistake by mentioning that with her ears listening in.

"Nat, you can't do any missions with a cast on your leg," Clint tells her.

Natasha responds in a mesh of Russian words that will not sound pleasant to the ear when translated.

"I would recommend taking supplements of vitamin D and calcium to speed and help the healing process," the doctor says.

"What good will those do?!" Natasha yells.

"I think you should leave us alone," Clint says to the doctor.

The doctor gives Clint the necessary papers before walking out of the room. He places them on a small table by the door. Clint takes a breath before facing Natasha.

"Look," Clint says. "You need to rest. You can't go out kicking ass if you don't have a leg to kick anyone with; and don't you dare tell me that you have your other leg."

"I don't want to just sit at home and watch television. It's boring! I need to be doing something productive."

Clint lights up with an expert idea.

"How about I take care of you?"

"No."

"Please? We can sit in your apartment and watch television together. I can keep you company."

"No."

"C'mon Natasha..."

"No."

"Hey, remember that one time you used your weird Russian voodoo potions on me?"

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I paralyzed you for only a week. You really have to let that one go."

"If I take care of you then I will."

Natasha stares at the archer, not knowing what she's getting herself into.

* * *

 **This is going to be fun. And yes, I had to throw in the Russian potion tidbit.**

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	2. Natasha's Crutches

**I apologize the chapters are short but hey, it's a _short_ story.**

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Chapter Two: Natasha's Crutches

Once Natasha was free from SHIELD's infirmary, she was determined to get home. All the doctors and nurses were bothering her with all the pain killers and antibiotics she needed to take (which she didn't even though she said she did) and she got fed up. She respects them and what they're doing, but she just wanted silence. Natasha hated her broken leg and the cast that came with it. She thought this injury couldn't get any worse, but she was wrong.

She had to suffer from the crutches that came with it.

Natasha wasn't accustomed to using crutches since she never needed them. She has seen many children using them, so she thought it was going to be simple.

She was wrong.

Russian curses spill out of her mouth as she tries to use them. Natasha takes a deep, frustrated breath. She focuses and attempts to take another step but fumbles. She got offered a wheelchair but declined it since she claimed not to need it.

"I got you, Nat," she hears a familiar voice say.

She looks over and sees Clint holding her arm. His usual goofy grin is smeared across his face as he helps her stand straight. Natasha yanks her arm back as he passes her the crutches that fell on the ground.

"Thanks," Natasha says, accepting them. "Don't think that means anything because I still don't need your help."

"You do," Clint replies. "Face it, Natasha, you need me."

"Go back to your nest."

"Hey, if I didn't leave my nest, you would've fallen on your face and broken more bones."

Natasha doesn't reply with words, but with her usual frown. Clint knows at this point that expression usually appears when she doesn't want to be proven wrong, which is all the time. He takes it upon himself to help her. Clint wraps his arm underneath hers and lightly helps her to walk across the SHIELD corridors.

"You're a master assassin who has fought against aliens and robots," Clint states as he opens a door and shuffles both of them through.

"Your point being?" Natasha asks not liking what may follow.

"How do you not know how crutches work?"

"Actually, I think I got the hang of them."

"Really?"

Natasha slides out of Clint's grasp on her. She gets in the right position and looks at Clint. He gives her a solid thumbs up for her progress. Natasha picks up one of her crutches and knocks him over with them as if it was a baseball bat. If he wasn't off guard, he would've blocked or ducked from the attack.

"Ow!" He yells from the ground.

"Told you," she says with a sly smile as she hobbles away on her crutches.

* * *

 **To be honest, that is how I would use crutches. I never needed them.**

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	3. Clint's Waffles

**This idea is probably everywhere, but I needed to write it.**

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Chapter Three: Clint's Waffles

The next morning, Natasha wakes up in her apartment to the sound of muffled cursing from somewhere else. She lifts off her bedsheets and is about to go check out the scene, but then sees the big white pain that is her cast. Natasha rolls her eyes as she gets her crutches because nothing is better for the stealthy approach than a big pair of clunky crutches. She unstraps the gun strapped to her mattress as she tries her best to sneak around.

What better than to attack an assassin who can't properly fight back? This cast leaves her more vulnerable than usual, but that won't stop her from kicking a culprit with her other foot, no matter what Clint says.

Once Natasha approaches the kitchen via crutches, she hears something hit the floor. Increasing her speed the best she can, Natasha enters the kitchen. All in the span of one second, she makes her stance and holds up her gun. Her crutches drop to the ground.

Natasha looks at the one at the other end and lowers her gun. It's Clint holding a bowl of batter. She rolls her eyes and puts her gun on the counter. Her kitchen is a bit of a mess but she figures that she can yell at him about it later.

"You know, I was going to bring you breakfast in bed," Clint tells her. "I apologize if I woke up but I kind of burned my hand and dropped a few things."

"What are you doing here?" Natasha asks.

"Being a good partner. If I broke my leg, wouldn't you have broken into my apartment and made me a fresh batch of homemade waffles?"

"Your apartment is a pig sty and smells of old pizza and coffee," she says, bending down to pick up her crutches. "I wouldn't be found anywhere near your place."

Clint couldn't deny it. For a man with perfect aim, he could never hit a trash can.

Natasha takes a few steps closer to Clint and sees a stack of already-finished waffles that look edible. She breaks off a corner piece and tastes it. Clint looks at Natasha and watches as she takes another corner off. She expected them to taste bad since Clint was the chef, but to her surprise, they tasted good.

"Not bad," Natasha remarks.

"See," Clint says, "you need me."

"I need your waffles, not you."

Natasha grabs another plate and takes two waffles. She grabs a bottle of syrup and drizzles a squiggly line across the waffles. Clint smiles to himself knowing that she wants him around, even if she'll never admit it.

* * *

 **I was hearing noises and creepy laughter in my apartment last night. I kind of hoped it was Clint making waffles.**

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	4. Clint's Lesson

**I should really write more domestic fics. I really like them.**

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Chapter Four: Clint's Lesson

Natasha sits on her couch with her legs stretched out on her coffee table on a pillow. She flips through different channels endlessly only finding the same types of programs on that vary from television shopping, game shows, the news, or children shows. Nothing interesting is on television during the morning for one simple reason: nobody has to stay home with a broken leg to watch them. Natasha hears the vacuum turn on so her immediate reaction is the increase the volume of the tv.

Clint vacuums around the area she's sitting. When he has to pass her legs, she just gives him a face to go around. Instead, Clint pushes the vacuum underneath her legs. He hoists himself over them, picks up the vacuum, and continues the cleaning from where he left off.

Natasha gives up on watching tv and turns it off. She takes a deep breath and listens to the loud vacuum. She finds it ironic that Clint is cleaning her already tidy place when his needs much more attending.

"I want to train!" Natasha yells over the sound of the appliance.

There is now silence in the room. Clint stands above her with his hands on his waist like an angry mother about to scold her child.

"You can't," Clint replies. "You need to rest. Your leg needs to heal."

"Can't I just practice my shooting?"

Clint replies with the scowl he usually gets from her. Natasha rolls her eyes.

"I need something to do," Natasha says. "I can't just sit here and do nothing. At least get me some paperwork. How about your paperwork which you force the SHIELD rookies to do as a part of their _training_?"

"No. I already gave them mine and yours."

Natasha crosses her arms. She looks up at her plain white ceiling before back at Clint. She has to give him credit for putting up with her constant declines of his help, her complaints to do tasks, and for finding and convincing the SHIELD rookies to do both their paperwork.

"You need to learn to relax," Clint says, winding the cord of the vacuum.

Natasha dislikes of the way he does it but doesn't say anything. Instead, she makes a mental note to fix it another time or teach Clint how to do it properly.

"When was the last time you took a day off?" Clint questions.

"I don't," Natasha replies. "I give my vacation days to the rookies at the end of the year. You know, the ones who have to suffer doing your paperwork."

"That's the problem. You need to learn to loosen up and just do nothing. Here, I'll teach you. I am the master of doing nothing."

Clint steps over her legs again and takes a seat beside her on the couch. The two of them sit in silence. Natasha looks at him, unsure of what's going on. She observes how blank his face looks as if there isn't one single thought running through his brain. A bit of her thinks that it's the same face as his normal face.

"I thought you were going to teach me," Natasha says.

"Don't interrupt the lesson," He replies.

Natasha understands that they're in the middle of the lesson and starts taking mental notes.

* * *

 **Clint giving his work to rookies would totally be me.**

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	5. Natasha's Idea

**Disclaimer: All the Russian lines are from some random website so I don't know if the translations are accurate.**

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Chapter Five: Natasha's Idea

 _"Помни, я всегда рядо."_

"What does that mean?" Clint asks, lightly nudging Natasha.

"'Remember, I'm always next to you,'" she translates, with a bored eye roll.

For the past two hours, Clint and Natasha have been sitting on her couch watching soap operas in Russian. Clint couldn't figure out how to turn on the English subtitles, so he's been asking Natasha to translate every phrase for him. Natasha herself doesn't know how to turn them on either but she just told Clint she wasn't going to do so.

 _"Скажи, что любишь меня!"_

"What about that?" Clint asks.

"I would rather die than continue watching this," Natasha says.

"It does not mean that."

"That's what _I_ mean," Natasha says. "I'm so bored that I would rather be in a life-threatening coma than watch this." The archer looks at her, still waiting for his translation. "It means 'Say that you love me!'"

Clint nods before turning off the television. He leans back and stretches his arms and legs. Hours of watching television really took a toll on his limbs.

"You need to get better channels," Clint tells her.

"It's not my fault," Natasha defends. "I am seldom home to watch tv. I'm always working. The only one who watches my television is you when your cable company cuts you off for not paying your bills."

"Right, Agent Black Widow always on duty and her partner, Agent Hawkeye never making his payments on time."

Natasha nods her head, liking the sound of that phrase since it pretty much summed them up as a duo. She is bored and knows that Clint will soon join her. Natasha understands that Clint wants to help her. She thinks that she can find a way for his need to assist in a way for the both of them to have fun. Or maybe it'll be fun for just her.

Natasha leans forwards and pulls out a pencil and a scrap piece of paper from a nearby drawer. She scribbles a quick list of the first items she can think of. Natasha rips off the piece of paper and sticks it on his forehead.

"Can you do some shopping for me?"

"Of course," Clint replies, pulling off the note from his face.

This is the first favor Natasha directly asked him to do. He could never refuse such a rare opportunity (especially since it might never happen again).

Clint gets up and puts on his leather jacket.

"Be back in twenty," he says before exiting.

As she hears the door lock, a grin approaches her face. She reaches over for her cell phone and dials a number. The dial tone is replaced by a familiar voice after a few rings.

"I thought I would be talking to you answering machine," she starts. The one on the other end gives a small laugh before asking the reason for her unexpected call. "Look, can you do a small favor for me?"

* * *

 **Who do you think it is? What favor must it be? None of you are going to guess it that's for sure.**

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	6. Natasha's Needs

**There was a moment where I forgot I was writing this story. Ha, whoops.**

 **If you're a guy, I apologize if you get uncomfortable with this chapter.**

 **Recap: Natasha sent Clint to the grocery store and while he was gone, she made a mysterious phone call.**

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Chapter Six: Natasha's Needs

In Clint's shopping cart is mostly an array of various groceries Natasha requested for him to buy (what the archer was unaware of was that Natasha scribbled the first fifteen items that popped into her head). As he continually crosses items off the list, he sees that the next item is cereal.

Clint makes his way over to the cereal aisle. As he looks at the different boxes all being different brands, he references back to his shopping list and realizes that Natasha never specified what kind of cereal she wanted. She just wrote cereal in her fancy cursive and no other details. He figures that a woman like her would want a healthy kind of cereal like the 12-grains or bran, but since Natasha is technically on vacation, he reasons that there's no need for her to be healthy.

Clint throws two boxes of Lucky Charms (because they're on sale for two for the price of one) into the cart and crosses cereal off the list. He thinks that Natasha will appreciate the taste of artificial chemicals and sugars as a change from the basic and bland bran.

He looks over at the next item on her list, which is also the last, and freezes.

Feminine Pads and Tampons

First off, Clint doesn't know the difference between pads and tampons because to him, they have the same purpose.

He whistles awkwardly as he pushes the rickety cart to the feminine product aisle. Natasha's cackle is echoing at the back of his mind. A bit of him thinks that she planned this, and he was going to prove to her that he knows how to buy these kind of products. The only problem he has is that he doesn't know what he's doing.

He picks up a package of pads. The only reason he chose this one was because the packaging was purple and he loves purple. He skims through the words on the plastic covering, doesn't understand what they all mean, and just throws it in the cart.

(He didn't have to look as he tossed it over his shoulder. Just because he doesn't know exactly what he's throwing, doesn't mean he's going to miss his target).

Clint picks up a second package of pads that's different from the first. He looks at the diagram on the side which explains the monthly ovulation cycle of women. He cringes as he throws the package in his cart without reading any more of the details.

The third package of pads has Clint confused because of the term 'wings'. He has no idea what that word has to do with anything, but then he thinks of a possible reason. What Clint knows about the women's monthly ovulation cycle is that it makes women moody and constantly complain about how much pain they're in. Now he's never heard any of that from Natasha, but believe him when he says that he's heard the complaints before. Anyways, Clint guesses that the reason pads have wings is so the pain can fly away.

He smiles throwing that package in the cart.

Clint ventures over to the tampons and feels his mind go numb. He thought he didn't understand pads, but tampons just confuse him much more. He didn't get the shape, why they came in a plastic tube, or the way a woman would insert - never mind.

Clint puts the package of tampons in the cart and then sees an athletic version of them. He doesn't get the difference between the athletic version and the regular one, but since the athlete on the packaging has the same determination on her face as Natasha does when sparring, he deems that as trustworthy and put it in the cart.

Clint thinks he's done in this aisle but then something catches his eye. As it turns out, all the feminine hygiene products come in different sizes depending on the "flow" of a woman. He blinks a few times before starting to whistle his way out of the aisle and pushes his cart to the checkout.

* * *

 **You know how awkward it was to type this chapter on public transportation?**

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	7. Clint's Charms

**Before any of you start, no, I didn't forget about this story.**

 **Recap: While Clint was out doing her grocery shopping, Natasha made a secret phone call.**

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Chapter Seven: Clint's Charms

"Nat!" Clint calls as he enters the house. "I'm back!"

"Just put the bags in the kitchen," Natasha replies. "And can you fetch me my sweater in my room. It's just lying on my bed."

Clint makes his way to the kitchen and places the bags on the countertop. As he goes to her room, Natasha stands up and uses her crutches to make her way over to the kitchen. She opens one of the bags and sees the food she asked for, minus the childish cereal. Then when she opens the second bag, she notes that it only contains a wide variety of feminine hygiene products.

Natasha smirks, knowing that she'll never have to buy more pads or tampons ever again since Clint bought her a lifetime supply. She tries to imagine a confused Clint just throwing box after box into the cart (which he did).

As she waits for Clint, she looks in the grocery bags for any type of snack to munch on. The only thing catching her eyes is that stupid red box with the cartoon leprechaun on it. She rolls her eyes and pours herself a bowl of it. Natasha adds milk and makes her way back to the couch.

"Natasha," Clint calls. "I don't see a sweater on your bed. All that's here are your pillows and some cheap looking white thing."

Natasha holds back a laugh. "Put on the cheap white thing."

"What is it?"

Natasha eats a spoonful of the sugary cereal and will never admit to liking the taste of it. Though now she knows to eat the cereal first and save the marshmallows for last.

-o-

Meanwhile, in Natasha's bedroom, Clint picks up the cheap, white fabric. He holds it out and sees that it's a tiny button-down dress with a red cross on the left side of the chest.

"Nat," Clint calls again. "What the hell is this?"

"If you want to be my nurse, you're going to have to dress for it," Natasha replies.

Clint looks up in a horrific shock. Then he looks back at the dress.

"Where did you get this?" Clint asks.

"I called Tony," Natasha responds. "He was excited to hear that I wanted one, but not that I wasn't going to be the one wearing it. He wasn't that thrilled to see you in it."

Clint narrows his eyes, a bit offended because he thinks that he will look better in this skimpy dress than the billionaire ever would.

"I am not putting this on," Clint states, throwing it back on her bed.

"Please, Clint," Natasha begs. That doesn't sound like Natasha since she never begs. "Put it on or I'll shove a tampon up so far up your bathing suit part that you'll never have kids."

That sounds more like Natasha.

Clint grumbles to himself for being a master archer, agent of SHIELD, and a goddamn Avenger, and now he's unbuttoning a tiny dress to put on. If anyone else were to hear about this, his status and membership would be revoked.

"Don't forget the hat!" Natasha chimes.

Clint looks around her bed for a hat and almost yelled back joyfully that there is no hat, but he was wrong since it just fell on the floor.

"Ah hell..." Clint mutters, knowing that he wouldn't want a tampon shoved up there.

-o-

Natasha sits back in her couch with her sugary bowl of cereal sitting on her lap. She relaxes and closes her eyes. The sound of Clint's cursing and frustration as to why the dress has too many buttons and why Tony knew what size would fit him perfectly, is nothing but music to her ears.

* * *

 **Clint will look smashing in a dress like that.**

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	8. Clint's Costume

**Sadly this is the last chapter and I just want to give another giant thank you for Gummybear1178 for this idea and her patience (because I took forever to write this).**

 **I'm just going to put it out there that there are some more mature terms in this chapters being presented to you by an immature person.**

 **Recap: When Clint came home from the grocery store, he didn't expect to change the clothes he was wearing.**

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Chapter Eight: Clint's Costume

Natasha continues munching on the sugary cereal as she sits on the couch. She secretly likes the feeling of being relaxed, but will never tell Clint because that man can have an ego when being proven right. Scratch that, she liked the feeling of being relaxed knowing that in her bedroom was an archer putting on a stripper costume for her amusement.

"Why does this have so many buttons?!" Clint screams in frustration, bringing a bigger smile to Natasha's face.

"Just come out!" Natasha yells back. "And don't forget the hat!"

Hearing Clint groan means she's doing a good job as a friend for making him suffer.

Eventually Clint walks out, completely humiliated. Natasha almost spits out her mouthful of cereal. Clint is a grown man wearing a petite woman stripper nurse costume. Some parts of the outfit made him look great whereas others made him look like one of those strippers who tried to hard and never got paid for services.

"See, you look great in it!" Natasha exclaims.

"I know I look amazing," Clint says, suddenly a new person. "This dress does wonders for my butt. Just call me Nurse Hawkeye."

"That is the worst stripper name ever. No wonder no one pays you."

"Want a free trial?" Clint asks, putting too much effort into being seductive.

Natasha shakes her head, still grinning. Clint makes his way closer to her, knowing that she can't run away with a broken leg (also that she's eating his cereal). Natasha tries to get rid of Clint by flicking milky cereal (and the beloved marshmallows) at him with her spoon. Clint shrugs that as she slides over to her (if the dress tore, which it almost did) and he rubs her arms.

"I'm Nurse Hawkeye," Clint introduces, in a sexy whisper. "And I'm here to make all your pain go away."

Natasha blinks a few times. "I'd rather be in a coma than watch this."

"Believe me, Nat, you'll enjoy the show."

Natasha gives him a skeptical look, but he taps her nose as he backs away from her. He gives her a view of his butt (which did look smashing in that awful striptease outfit). Clint tries to shake his butt for her, but the dress wasn't letting him. Eventually, he turns around and begins to thrust his pelvis as he approaches her. Natasha continuously shakes her head the closer he gets. Once he's less than an inch away, she looks up uncomfortably whereas Clint has the time of his life. He puts the hat on her head and she doesn't even smile (though Clint believes different).

Natasha immediately regrets calling Tony and getting this outfit since the odds were not in her favor. Although after taking a look at the half-eaten bowl of cereal in her lap, maybe luck will be on her side. Natasha begins to boo Clint, jokingly, even though that encourages him to do more provocative moves in order to receive applause. When she chucks the remains of her cereal and milk at him.

The noise Clint makes once the food hit him was the mix of a pig's squeal, little girl shriek, and distressed bird call as he holds his rear end.

"Natasha!" He exclaims. "That's cold!"

"Clint, can you be a good nurse and clean up this mess?"

Clint looks at the floor and sees milk and cereal on it. He looks up at Natasha and succumbs to his want to help her so he walks into the kitchen to get a mop. An idea pops into his mind.

"Hey, Nat," Clint calls from the kitchen, spinning the mop on his fingertip. "Maybe I can swing around this mop as a part of Nurse Hawkeye's new routine."

With that, he heard something strange coming from Natasha. He heard her laughing and not those _'yea, sure'_ laughs, but the genuine, hearty laugh that only comes when something is beyond hilarious. Natasha rarely does that, but the longer Clint listens to it, he finds himself smiling as he tries to come up with ways to keep Natasha laughing like this for the next six to eight weeks.

Besides, laughter is the best medicine.

* * *

 **I didn't plan for this story to have a cute ending, but I'm proud of it. Thank you for everyone who has read this story or supported it in any way! And as always, I am open to writing a story that you want to see.**

 **~ MysteryGal5**


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